"Forget it... I'll deal with this later. I'm taking him back for now..."
Mohg looked down at Pohl—face covered in blood and unconscious—and felt a mounting headache. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to bring the man back. After all, Pohl's two remaining teammates had no idea about his current "enlightenment."
However, this meant Mohg couldn't regroup with Morgott immediately; explaining this situation would be... complicated.
"Ugh..."
Mohg had just carried Pohl by the collar back to the catacombs' prayer room when the man finally stirred and woke up.
"Ahhh... You didn't kill me... Does this mean you are willing to let me serve the Great Blood God alongside you?" Pohl asked, looking at Mohg with an expression of pure, unadulterated obsession.
Regarding that look... Mohg felt disgusted. No, more than disgusted—he was repulsed.
He had no intention of keeping someone like this as a true subordinate. The man was clearly cut from the cloth of a backstabber. Who knew when he'd stick a knife in Mohg's ribs? If Miquella were ever born, this guy would probably be the first to stab Mohg just to become Miquella's dog.
But... for now, he was useful.
"I can help the Mother bestow the Blessing of Blood upon you," Mohg said, leaning in close and narrowing his eyes. "But... what can you offer in return?"
Pohl froze for a second, but his mind quickly jumped to his two companions.
"Sacrifices! I can offer sacrifices to you and the Blood God! Betrayal and blood!!"
A fanatical glow returned to Pohl's face. He scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply and respectfully to Mohg.
"Since you understand, then return to your companions. When we meet again, that will be the time for you to prove your loyalty."
"Of course!" Pohl's voice was high-pitched and fervent, the very image of a mad zealot.
Mohg, however, remained highly skeptical about how much of that "loyalty" was actually directed toward faith rather than just a craving for the next thrill.
Once Pohl had departed, Mohg looked down at his own hands. Earlier, when he was preparing to fight Pohl, he had felt a flicker of power from the Mother of Truth that felt remarkably similar to the techniques Godfrey had taught him.
"Could this be the so-called 'Spiritual Power'? I remember..."
Mohg frowned, trying to dredge up fragmented memories. He didn't know much about this specific energy, only that the Ancestral Spirits seemed to be products of it, and the Hornsent utilized something similar.
Was the Mohgwyn Dynasty I established in my past life also based on this power?
Lost in thought, Mohg reflexively touched the horns growing from his head, and his movements stiffened. A "dead memory" suddenly surged back to haunt him.
Spiritual power was inextricably linked to the Hornsent's beliefs—or rather, to the various Aspects of the Crucible. The faith of blood was merely one branch of that ancient horn-worship.
By violently plundering the spiritual essence within others, one could attain immense power, but the price was a descent into madness and loss of reason. The Ancestral Followers, on the other hand, sought spiritual power through gentler means, siphoning it from nature and the environment—an act very similar to meditation.
"One more headache to add to the pile... but it looks like I'll eventually have to head down into the deeper regions to find answers. It should be closer to the Mother of Truth down there..."
Mohg shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside for later. For now, the priority was dealing with those remaining grave robbers.
"What took you so long?"
Morgott breathed a sigh of relief when Mohg finally appeared. He had begun to fear an accident had befallen his brother and was just about to go out and search for him.
"Got held up by a minor issue, but it's handled. Where are the other two?"
"They saw things were going south and bolted. The terrain over there was too cramped; the big Omen couldn't catch them."
Morgott gestured toward the massive Omen sitting in the corner, covered in fresh wounds and currently dozing off. Mohg noted the creature's state—the big guy was certainly a capable fighter.
"By the way, where's that mage's staff?"
"Right here. I don't really understand what you want with this thing," Morgott said, picking up the Glintstone Staff from the floor and handing it to Mohg with a look of confusion.
"Just a little experiment."
Mohg gave a non-committal answer and began inspecting the staff. He recalled seeing records of "Blood Stars" in the game in his previous life. However, whether those stars were actually the Mother of Truth was a point of doubt. The methods of worship and power usage were similar, yet distinct.
Thorn Sorceries and Blood Glintstones both required bodily sacrifice. But the Mother of Truth... she didn't strictly demand self-mutilation as the only path. To put it bluntly, she didn't mind if you used others as the sacrifice instead.
Setting that mystery aside, Mohg began looting Rip's corpse. He rummaged through the sorcerer's belongings to see if there was anything else of value.
He found a pouch of Runes, a few shards of Glintstone, some miscellaneous junk, and... a scroll.
"Haha! Found it!"
Mohg's face lit up with surprise as he unrolled the parchment. Sure enough, it contained several Academy sorceries. Basic spells like Glintstone Pebble and Starlight were there, along with a few intermediate ones.
After confirming the contents, Mohg carefully tucked the scroll into his robes. A treasure like this needed to be guarded.
"You plan on learning... Glintstone Sorcery?" Morgott asked, his brow furrowed.
"I'm considering it. It's a versatile power. Don't worry, I'll be careful. If I don't have the talent for it, I'll stop immediately."
Mohg nodded, signaling Morgott not to worry. He felt his current body's talent shouldn't be too bad. He couldn't possibly be a "9 Intelligence" build...
I reckon... He stopped himself. Wait, I should probably stop saying 'I reckon.' If I start using Ork logic, I'm really in trouble.
"Hmm?"
"What is it?"
"The scent of those grave robbers. They're approaching us."
Morgott looked stunned. "After taking such a beating, they still haven't given up?"
He had assumed the survivors would have fled the catacombs entirely. He hadn't even planned on hunting them down further.
"There's this thing called 'not being able to swallow an insult,'" Mohg said, slowly standing up.
Perfect. He hadn't had a chance to test his new move on Pohl. This time, he was going to have some fun!
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (211 Chapters – Ongoing)
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